The Time Machine Sequel
by greenplaid88
Summary: Short story I had to write about what happened after the Time Traveler left for the last time.


"… **I stayed on waiting for the Time Traveler: waiting for the second, perhaps still stranger story, and the specimens and photographs he would bring with him. But I am beginning now to fear that I must wait a lifetime. The Time Traveler vanished three years ago. And, as everybody knows now, he has never returned."**

I, one of very few who believe the Time Traveler's tale, am still waiting. It has now been five years since the Traveler's disappearance. Everyone seems to have forgotten about him. Everyone except me.

I can't help but lay awake at night, wondering what adventures the Time Traveler might be having now, or rather, later. That is, if he is still living somewhere in time. I must admit, I have my doubts that I will ever see the Time Traveler or that fabulous machine of his again. I fear something might have happened to my dear friend. I fear that he might have been lost, in time that is. I fear that he might have been stranded, alone. I fear his machine might have broken down, not being able to withstand many more trips than the Traveler's first few. Most of all, I fear for what seems to be the silliest of all to say. I fear the Time Traveler might have been eaten.

When the Time Traveler had told the lot of us of the carnivorous and cannibalistic nature of the Morlocks, I was not terrified, as one might suspect. Rather, I was thankful. Thankful that these dreaded descendants of mine were not here, in my own time. And now, I fear I might have to face my fears. I fear I might have to look death straight in the eye. And I fear I might lose.

The first sighting was last month, in Asia. The poor souls that had seen it didn't even live to tell the tale. Their remains, which consisted mostly of bloody and saliva-covered bones, were found on a remote mountain. The two had gone mountain climbing. They never came back, but one managed to keep a journal. In his journal was found a description that puzzled the world, but terrified me, the only one who knew what it was that the climbers saw.

_"… As I slowly grabbed the ledge and hoisted myself over, desperate to get to the safety, light, and warmth of the next base, I saw in the darkness of the night a small white flash. It appeared to be a small, white bear cub. Having only seen it for a small fraction of a second, the image was not clear or vivid in my mind. My partner, however, described the creature as a 'disgusting, white, drooling, ape, one most unpleasant to the human eye.' The following night, when I went out to gather water for melting, I happened to look one of them dead in the face, straight in its beady red eyes. It looked terrified, as I'm sure I did. The horrid thing ran off, seemingly into eternal darkness. It was just as my partner had said: disgusting, white, drooling, and ape-like. Its eyes will haunt my mind for quite a while, I'm sure. The eyes were the worst part. Big, red, and beady, the creature almost looked hungry. Not hungry for care, attention, or love. Not hungry from living in the wild. Not hungry from lack of food. Hungry from confusion. Hungry from everlasting hatred. Hungry for a killing. Hungry for death. Hungry for another being's hurting. Hungry for me."_

The rest of the world was shocked when the bodies were found just a half of a mile away from the camp where they had stopped and seen the creature. The man's journal account was played over and over again on the radio. People could not imagine what this creature could be. But I knew. I knew it was a Morlock. It could simply be no other. And now I fear my friend the Time Traveler can no longer be classified as Missing in Action, but rather, Presumed Dead.

As soon as I heard the report, I knew I could not protect myself properly from the evil that was sure to come. If the Morlocks had time traveled into our own time that I knew there was nothing I could do but stock up on plastic torches and hope to blind them all.

For surely, there must not only be one, but many. I suspect that perhaps they have truly done away with my friend the Time Traveler, maybe have eaten him up for Thanksgiving dinner, stolen his time machine, and somehow come back here to our own time. Or perhaps, the Time Traveler was attacked by them as he traveled back into our own time and was eaten upon arrival. These sickening thoughts haunt me, day and night. I must confess that while I do have theories about what had happened to my dear, dear, friend, I cannot help but to think of my own life, of my own destiny.

It is now the third day of the week, and I sit listening to the radio as I hear the dreaded journal entry once more. As I listened, I noticed that the Morlocks described in the poor climber's journal sound much more hating, much more demonic and devil-like than those my dear friend the Time Traveler had described to me one day long ago.

Is it possible that the Morlocks had further evolved? Were these Morlocks from yet a further year, one past that of 802,701? I cannot even begin to fathom how grossly evil these creatures may have become.

I listened to the entry, twirling two shriveled and brown flowers in my hand. These two flowers are the only things in this time that have kept me from insanity during the past five years. I still, like the others present on that long night filled with futuristic tales, cannot recognize their species. That very sense of unknowing has kept me from insanity thus far. Ironic, isn't it? The human mind?

Just after the diary reading had ended, the radio broadcaster came on air, supposedly to deliver "a very important radio broadcast." As he began to speak, I heard the newspaper boy coming down our road to deliver a special edition set of newspapers. I rushed out the door, eager to buy one, as I always am when it comes to extra papers. I paid my fee and tipped the young lad, and then hurried back inside, away from the cold of the winter months.

Just as I had dead bolted the door, I heard the radio broadcaster yelling out something that seemed terribly important.

_"We have just received word that the mysterious creature that had supposedly eaten the pair of mountain climbers in China has been seen in five different locations, all within a few minutes of each other! We advise those in London and Winchester to remain calm and indoors, as the alleged monsters may be in your area!"_

And with that, they returned to normal broadcasting. I looked with horror at the paper I had just purchased. When I read the title, I do believe that my heart skipped not one, but four beats.

MAN-EATING MONSTERS INVADE ENGLAND!

I had always been curious as to what Providence might choose to end mankind. I never would have suspected it to be my children, my descendants.

No sooner than a week had gone by when I discovered by means of radio that the Morlocks had spread, not throughout the country, but the world. People panicked, left their homes and headed for large cities if they did not reside in one previously. After all, there is safety in numbers.

However, Morlocks do not seem to care much for numbers. The first Morlock invasion began in an American city, called Chicago. The Morlocks began digging deep wells and holes for themselves to thrive in. The braver few of the people had tried to collapse the caves, but only a few successfully collapsed cave entrances did not stop the many wells being dug by the minute. The Morlocks stationed all of their wells around the city, seemingly waiting.

Was this how mankind was to become the Eloi and Morlocks? We, the human race were all slowly forced into cities, and surrounded by the deep wells of the Morlocks. The conditions are right for evolution. Only the fittest will survive. It seems that with each coming day, the Morlocks dig their tunnels closer and closer to the human population. Perhaps they have become wiser, and more familiar with the art of hunting. Perhaps this truly is the end. But only time can tell.

I write this to any future generations who might still possess the ability to read the English language, or any language for that matter. I am forced to conclude that we, as a race, must now evolve into the Eloi. We must become the child-like creatures of light that were once described to me by my dear friend. We must survive.


End file.
